Born of Deception

Nineteen

Of course, I have to contact Walter and enlist his help, and I’m pretty hazy on how I’m going to do that. I’ll think about that later. First, I have to write a note to Cole.

I’m taking a risk by not going over the plan with him beforehand, but if he knew what I’m about to do, he’d try to stop me. I’m not going to put more lives at risk because he wants to keep me safe.

Maybe Calypso does practice witchcraft, but I don’t for a second believe she can wave a wand and make things happen like in a fairy tale. Spells, at least how I understand them, take time to prepare and execute. In the end, Calypso is just a girl and she’s younger than I am.

Cole,

I’m going to confront Calypso. I’ve spoken to her father and he wants me to take her to him. I believe he will help us. Please meet me at the following address as soon as you get this note.

I jot down the address and chew on the end of the pen, wondering if I should add something personal. If something bad were to happen to me tonight, wouldn’t I want him to know how I feel? Cole’s sensitive, handsome face comes to mind and the image bruises my heart with tenderness.

So I simply finish with Love, Anna.

It’s my plan to send the note to him and go directly to the address Mr. Crowley gave me. No matter how strained things have been between us, I know Cole and he’ll be there within minutes.

As added insurance, I also send a note to Harrison. I may be foolhardy, but I’m not completely stupid. Though I suppose my intelligence or lack thereof is completely dependent on how tonight turns out.

I write another note to Louie, apologizing for missing rehearsal tonight. I hope he doesn’t think I’m taking liberties because I’m top billing now.

My final note is to Mr. Gamel and the Society, declining their invitation to join. It turns into a two-page letter, telling them why I won’t be involved and giving them tips on making the Society a place that I might like to be a part of someday. I finish up with:

In closing, I guess I’m just too American to accept “taxation without representation,” so to speak.

Anna

That done, I lie on my bed and wait. It’s important that it’s almost dark when I get to where Calypso is so she won’t see Cole or Harrison coming.

Unrelated thoughts float through my mind. I wonder if Harry Houdini is still in Europe and why he made it a point to come to my debut. I wonder if my mother really wants me to stay with them and if I could ever be happy not performing my magic. Then I wonder if I will be happy being on the road all the time. I wonder if Jeanne and Louie are going to have a boy or girl and what Louie will do if he quits vaudeville. I think of Cole, not the disapproving Cole, but the Cole with the wonderful laugh and the dark, velvety eyes that always have a special warmth just for me. Then Billy pops into my head, smiling as if he were channeling sunshine. And I stare at the cracks in the ceiling and face the truth. Billy’s friendship, the relationship we have, is very special, but it’s not the same as how I feel about Cole. My heart pounds as the truth settles over me. I love being around Billy but he’s not Cole. Cole feels as necessary to me as breathing.

Restless, I check my watch and then sit up. Maybe I should try to call Walter or something, but then I shudder and decide against it. In reality, I don’t know whether Walter is friend or foe. Instinctively, I feel as if he might be a friend, but what if he just wants to inhabit my body and doesn’t care about Calypso or the other Sensitives or anything else that I care about? No, I can’t risk it. I’ll have to wait to call him . . . and hope he shows up.

It’s still a bit early in the afternoon, but I’m too twitchy with nerves to rest. I put on my coat, slip my balisong into the pocket, and gather up my things. Stopping in the lobby, I hand the clerk my notes with a coin. He will give them to a messenger boy to deliver. That done, I hurry out into the wind and rain, clutching the address in one hand and my satchel in the other. The storm has arrived.

I duck my head against the rain and run right into Billy.

He puts his hands on my shoulders to steady me. “Whoa. Slow down there, Nellie.” He turns on the twang, which usually makes me laugh, but I’m not in a laughing mood.

He takes one look at my face and grows immediately serious. “What’s wrong?” He looks down at my satchel. “Where you going?”

Caught unaware, I’m too startled to make something up and his eyes narrow. “This has something to do with that man, doesn’t it? Wherever you’re going, I’m going too.”

“No, you don’t have to,” I protest. “It’s fine, I’m just going to . . . dinner.”

But it’s too late and we both know it. The taxicab I had the clerk call pulls up to the curb, and Billy reaches for the door. “If you want me to remain scarce, I will, but I am going with you.”

I hesitate. I suppose I could try to make him stay, but the truth is, having Billy watch my back is tempting. Who knows when Cole will get there, and Harrison is probably taking Leandra to the train station. If neither one of them receives the notes in a timely manner, I’ll be on my own. Reluctantly, I nod. “But you have to stay outside, all right?”

He nods and waves a hand toward the cab. I crawl in and scoot across the seat. The driver opens the small sliding window between the front and the back seat and I hand him the address.

“Do you trust me enough to tell me what’s going on yet?” Billy’s voice is quiet.

I shut my eyes for a minute as the taxi rattles and shakes down the street. “It’s not a question of trust,” I finally tell him. “It’s not really my secret. So, no, I can’t let you know what is going on.”

The sun is just starting to go down, but I can still see the look in Billy’s eyes. My heart wrenches at the disappointment on his face. “People are in danger,” I say, unable to stand it. “It’s complicated, but I have to go confront the person responsible and see if I can’t keep anyone else from being hurt. I really can’t tell you more, but thank you for wanting to come.”

Tears clog my throat as I see his face soften. “Anna, I will always be here if you need me.”

Letting myself fall in love with Billy would be so very, very tempting, but I feel the wrongness of it in my gut. Even if Billy fits perfectly into the part of my life that is performing and magic, could he ever understand the part of me that is a psychic?

I give myself a mental shake. There will be plenty of time for pondering my love life after the Sensitives are safe and Calypso has been taken out of the equation.

I look out the window, my heart sinking. Wherever Calypso is holding the Sensitives, it’s not in an upper-crust neighborhood. In fact, it’s as seedy a part of London as I have yet seen. There are fewer streetlamps and many of those don’t work. Those that do, illuminate shuttered buildings and people huddled in doorways.

The driver pulls up in front of a dilapidated apartment building several stories high. My heart races and I take a deep breath. This is not good. Had it been a house, I would have felt more comfortable leaving Billy to guard the front. As it is, I’m not sure what to do. The driver passes me back the paper with the address on it. My heart sinks further when I see the apartment number 13 on it. Had that been there before? I rub my eyes. I hear a faint buzzing in my ears but when it doesn’t grow any louder, I ignore it. Apparently the pendant is already working and blocking the mental confusion.

“What now?” Billy asks after we exit the taxi. “I’m not letting you go in there alone.”

I shake my head and pull my coat tighter around me against the wind. “I have to go in. Someone inside one of the flats may need my help. Can you watch the door for me from the hall? If I don’t come out in, I don’t know, thirty minutes or so, you can bust in after me. Isn’t that what you cowboys do?”

I’m babbling and he knows it. I can feel his apprehension through his hand on my arm, but I also feel his determination. He won’t let anything happen to me if he can help it.

We enter the building. Most of the electric lightbulbs in the hallway are broken and the plaster is falling off the walls in places. I shiver as a sense of foreboding fills me. The building itself heaves with the anguish of centuries, and my skin crawls with the eerie sense that the halls have seen unimagined horrors—murders, ghosts, and intrigue of the most despicable sort.

Calypso is not the first person to commit murder here. I feel spirits all around me, touching me with their long bony fingers, whispering in my ears with their foul breath.

Maybe it’s my imagination.

“If I’d had some warning, I would have brought my guns,” Billy whispers next to me. “This is not a good place.”

Or maybe it’s not my imagination.

In my experience, apartment buildings like this are loud, but no noise issues from behind the doors we pass. Perhaps the occupants know to keep quiet and let the ghosts reign. Or perhaps there are no occupants.

We arrive at number thirteen and I twitch my head. As if he’s done this type of thing before, Billy melts back into the shadows. He probably would have made a good bank robber had he wanted to, I think inanely. Of course, any women present would have been able to give a detailed description of him, so maybe not. I place my hand on the doorknob and then jerk it back. My heart pulses in my ears.

It’s warm.

Maybe from her black magic?

It’s locked. Taking out my picklock, I silently make short work of the lock. Then I clutch at the amulet at my throat, say a quick prayer, and make the sign of the cross over my chest even though I’m not Catholic. In spite of all that, fear slices through my body. Nothing in my life could have prepared me for this kind of terror.

Heart in my throat, I open the door as quietly as I can. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light, but when I do, I gasp. Red silk hangs from the walls like I’ve entered the apartment of a sultan. Cushions and low tables line the walls. My eyes take in a window on one side and a hallway on the other. A giant mirror in an ornate wooden frame hangs on one wall. I shudder, remembering Mr. Crowley’s warning. For a moment I think I’m alone, but then I spot a young man propped upright in the corner. He’s bound and gagged and his eyes are closed. His skin is ashen and he’s so thin, his cheekbones jut out of his face like knives. I pray that whoever it is is still alive. Then I hear a low moan coming from down the hall and gay laughter that is so out of place that a shiver runs down my spine.

Calypso.

Moving silently, I first check on the man. His eyes fly open in terror at my touch and I put my finger to my lips. He nods. I take the gag out of his mouth. He licks his lips.

“Is she alone?” I whisper. Unable to speak, he nods.

I want to cut him loose, but first things first. I need to make a circle of salt on the floor to bind her with and then get her to step into it. The odds are slim, but if I can’t subdue her, I won’t have a chance. Who knows what kind of evil she’s capable of? Pulling the bag of salt out of my satchel, I quickly make a large circle in the middle of the room. It’s not straight—my hands are shaking too badly to pour a perfect circle, but I think it will work.

The silver knife is sharper and sturdier than my balisong, so I reach under my skirt and pull it out of its sheath. I’m about halfway through the young man’s bindings when the hair on the back of my neck tingles and his eyes widen.

I know Calypso’s behind me before I even turn around.

Her short hair is mussed as if she just crawled out of bed, and she’s wearing a long, peacock-blue dress with kimono sleeves. She claps delightedly, causing the sleeves to float like bat’s wings. “Oh! You came! I was so worried you wouldn’t!” Then she eyes the knife in my hand. “Oh, you won’t need that.”

Suddenly something begins squeezing my hand, and within seconds the pressure increases so much that I drop the knife in pain. It falls to the floor with a clatter.

How did she do that?

My stomach knots as I search for a probable explanation. Psychokinesis, as far as I know, is just a parlor trick done by fake mediums. The only person near me is the young man, whose arms are still bound. Which leaves spiritual interference. Considering what I now know concerning her father, that’s a very real possibility. I glance at the floor. She’s about three feet from stepping into the circle.

“Why?”

“Why won’t you be needing your knife? Or why all of this?” She waves her hands around the room.

“Why all of this? Why didn’t you just send me an invitation?” I speak casually, but my heart is pounding so loudly that I’m surprised she can’t hear it. Or maybe she can, it’s difficult to tell. I can feel something hovering nearby, but no matter how often I turn my head I can’t catch it. I can almost see it, but not quite. It’s like a dark shadow, or a puff of smoke in the corner of my eye, that disappears when looked at directly.

Calypso tilts her head to the side in a strange birdlike gesture as if listening for something. Or perhaps she’s listening to something.

Then she straightens and smiles, her black eyes flat. “This way was so much more fun! Plus, I needed time to gather everything together. According to Aiwass, everything comes together in good time.”

The name jolts me. That’s what Walter said during the séance. “Who is Aiwass?” Suddenly, the thing out of my line of vision is swirling around me. I swallow convulsively.

“My father’s spirit guide. Aiwass left him long ago and came to me, because he knows I have far more potential than even the great Aleister Crowley.”

Her voice is petulant, like a spoiled child’s, and I shudder. Everything, all of this, is because she wanted to show up her father?

My God.

But Aiwass, the spirit guide, is not the figment of a deranged mind. The scent of evil, like rotting meat, assaults my nostrils. My stomach roils and I cling to my composure by the thinnest thread. Why did I come in here alone? Why did I come here at all?

Behind me, the young man whimpers and I remember. There’s more at stake here than just me and my fear.

I keep my eyes on Calypso. Somehow I have to keep her from looking down. Three more steps. With more self-control than I knew I possessed, I focus on Calypso and not on the vaporous evil weaving around me like a snake dancing around a mouse. I need to force her to make a mistake—to look away, step into the circle, anything. Frantically I use the only thing I know that really upsets her. “Maybe Aiwass is using you to get to your father.”

Calypso frowns. “No. You don’t know anything. You think you do, but you don’t. For instance, you don’t know why I chose you in particular.”

Her gaze is unfocused as if she’s been smoking hashish. I move forward, willing her to do the same. She takes a step and my pulse speeds up. Just a bit more . . . “You chose me for my good taste in hats, didn’t you?” I say.

Calypso stops and laughs, a lilting girlish sound that sounds freakishly innocent. “No, silly. I was going to use Cole until I met you. But you had such interesting abilities and so much power. I felt it the moment I met you. Everyone was talking about it. So I chose you!”

I take another step toward her, but my toes are at the salt and I don’t want to get into the circle with her. “You chose me for what?”

The spirit being is still undulating around me as if sniffing for a way in. I shiver as the coldness brushes my skin.

“I chose you because I want your abilities. I discovered an incantation, you see. One that will allow me to claim your powers for my own.”

I have one hand on my balisong in my pocket, but I don’t want to pull it. For some reason giving Calypso a knife seems like a bad idea. “That’s why you killed Pratik?”

She nods. “I needed the blood. Dr. Boyle was angry because he wanted Pratik alive. Pratik’s ability to see people’s auras would have come in very handy in Dr. Boyle’s quest for fortune. He would have been able to tell Dr. Boyle exactly who was corruptible and who was not. But I decided I didn’t need Dr. Boyle’s money anymore. If I could combine my abilities and your abilities, I could make all the money I needed.”

She moves to a table and picks up a small urn. My heart sinks as she steps farther from the circle. Dipping her fingers into the urn, she touches her forehead and her nose and chin. I gag when I realize what it is.

Blood.

Aiwass leaves my side as if attracted to the scent of blood. Again, Calypso tilts her head to one side as if listening, and then her eyes turn to me. “What do you have? What are you wearing?”

I glance down at myself before I realize what she means.

The pendant.

“Take it off!” she commands.

I cover it with one hand, protecting it. “No, thank you. I think I’ll keep it.” I must get her to step forward. “How did you use Cole to get to me? I thought you couldn’t influence Sensitives?”

She smiles and I shiver at the craftiness that comes over her face. “I can if they wish to be influenced. Pratik wanted to believe that I was in love with him. Cole was more difficult because he’s in love with you, but even he was flattered by my attentions. Men are so very, very easy.”

“If men are so easy, why can’t you influence your father?” I taunt, trying to push her over the edge. I’ll never gain the upper hand as long as she is in control of herself. Not with Aiwass by her side.

Calypso’s mouth tightens at my words and she slaps her hand against her thigh repeatedly. “My father is the most powerful man in the world! Don’t talk about my father! Your father won’t even acknowledge your existence.”

My stomach knots. In spite of the situation, her words still sting. “How do you know that?” I demand, even though I know I shouldn’t let her sidetrack me.

A triumphant smile curves her lips as if she knows that she got to me. “Aiwass told me. He tells me everything.”

I shake off her words and focus. “My father cares about me in his way. Does yours? I’m not so sure. He and I had a long visit today, you know.”

“You’re lying!” she says through gritted teeth, but I sense her uncertainty.

I feel Aiwass whipping back to me as if frustrated. Bless Harry Price, I think reverently. The tension in the room presses in on me from all sides, making it difficult to breathe. “No, I’m not. He wants you to come see him. He sent me to bring you home.”

Her face contorts. “Liar!”

The door opens with a bang and both Calypso and I jump.

It’s Billy, holding Mr. Casperson around the neck with one arm.

“You didn’t tell me what to do if someone was going in, so I improvised.”

Billy takes in the situation with a glance but doesn’t comprehend what’s going on or where the danger is. All he sees is two young women arguing.

Mr. Casperson slumps, and Billy is momentarily thrown off balance. He regains it quickly, but doesn’t loosen his hold. Then he moves to my side, dragging the now inert man with him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Calypso’s lips curving up into a smile. “Let the man fall to the ground,” she says.

Her intent hits me as Billy’s eyes glaze over.

What have I done?